


daisies pied and violets blue

by renrenners



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, I'm not tagging all the lions but they're all there, M/M, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29303916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renrenners/pseuds/renrenners
Summary: Garreg Mach is not so different from Fhirdiad. The people all look at him with open distrust, don’t bother to whisper when they speak behind his back, and make their claims of his evils openly. It’s something that Dedue has become all too accustomed to over the last few years, something that he knows will last for many more years to come. By now he has grown to expect it.What he didn’t expect was Ashe.Or, five times Dedue gives Ashe flowers over the years, and one time Ashe gives him back the world
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27
Collections: Ashe Big Bang





	daisies pied and violets blue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! While I wrote this fic for the Ashe Big Bang my partner unfortunately had to drop and so there's no art accompanying it. The mods were nice enough to let me post it in the collection anyways, so here it is!
> 
> Title from Shakespeare's Love's Labours Lost, because I can write nearly 14k of fic but god forbid I actually come up with a title on my own
> 
> (also if I don't mention your fave recruitable non-lion please assume that they were recruited because that is absolutely what I do when I read fic)

1.

The greenhouse is inarguably Dedue’s favorite place at Garreg Mach. There’s a certain kind of serenity to be found when surrounded by flowers and nothing else, a peace that cannot be found anywhere else so long as he resides in a land that hates him for no reason beyond his place of birth. 

In truth, Garreg Mach is not so different from Fhirdiad. The people all look at him with open distrust, don’t bother to whisper when they speak behind his back, and make their claims of his evils openly. It’s something that Dedue has become all too accustomed to over the last few years, something that he knows will last for many more years to come. 

Even the Blue Lions keep their distance from him, making no secret what they, too, think of him. Dimitri’s friends especially seem to distrust him, though Dedue isn’t nearly as bothered by that as Dimitri is. What others think of him is of little consequence; all that really matters is helping His Highness achieve the future they both long for.

So Dedue spends what little free time he has in the greenhouse. It is a welcomed callback to his old life, before fire rained down on Duscur and stole everything from him. The plants are all different and unfamiliar, nothing like what he remembered from gardening alongside his mother in childhood, but they are plants all the same and they, at least, never judge.

There are, of course, other students and staff who frequent the greenhouse but they, too, give Dedue a wide berth whenever their paths happen to cross. By now he has grown to expect it.

What he didn’t expect was Ashe.

Ashe is not like the rest of their classmates. They are the only two of non-noble birth, and while Ashe, too, shies away from him, it isn’t quite the same. Dedue can recognize all too well the hesitation and fear that paints Ashe’s features, has become intimately familiar with such looks over the past four years, but unlike others it is not a look reserved solely for Dedue. Ashe seems to be equally nervous about all of their classmates, to the point he nearly passes out the first time Dimitri tries to speak with him. 

One sunny afternoon in the late Horsebow moon, once all classes have concluded for the day, Dedue finally finds himself with the time to visit the greenhouse. It’s the first time that week that he’s had the chance, and just walking into the warmth of the room eases a tension from his shoulders that he’s so used to carrying by now that he barely even notices it. At first it appears empty but for the ever present greenhouse keeper, but as Dedue makes his way to the plot of herbs he has been tending as of late, he spots Ashe sitting in the back corner where a patch of violets is just starting to bloom - directly next to Dedue’s herbs.

Truthfully, Dedue expects Ashe to scurry away when their eyes meet, as he has always done before in the few months they have been at Garreg Mach so far. Instead Ashe just smiles at him, bright and brilliant before turning back towards the flowers.

Which is how they come to be sitting side by side — the first time anyone besides Dimitri had sat next to him in years. 

“What are those?” Ashe asks softly, peering over Dedue’s shoulders to the plant that he is currently weeding. He’s quiet enough that Dedue hadn’t even noticed him moving.

“Anemones.” Dedue says, as short and succinct as he always is. Surely Ashe will return to his own work, leaving Dedue to his peace.

“Oh! I had read about those, but I’ve never actually seen it before.” Ashe continues without hesitation, shifting closer to Dedue to take a better look, “We don’t have the right climate to grow them in Gaspard, unfortunately. And what about that one by the back?”

“Lily of the Valley.” Dedue answers, and once again the curt response does nothing to dispel Ashe’s interest. Instead he sidles up closer still, his eyes wide with fascination. It is the closest anyone has been to Dedue in years, close enough that he can feel the other’s warmth even through their uniforms, and, perhaps most surprising of all, there is not so much as a hint of fear on Ashe’s face. 

Dedue does not know how long they sit there together, conversing softly about the flowers. Ashe is nothing but an avid listener, as intent about learning about plants as he is in class. It is only when the cathedral’s bell tolls throughout the monastery that Ashe bolts upright, eyes wide with horror, “Goddess, is it really that late? Oh no, I’m on kitchen duty tonight, I can’t be late.” He flashes that smile at Dedue again, brighter than the sun and just as blinding, “Thank you for teaching me, I’ll see you in class tomorrow!” Just like that Ashe is gone, leaving Dedue alone with his herbs.

It is surely a one time thing, Dedue thinks. From what little he knows about him, Ashe is always eager to learn, so certainly this was just that. 

Except it’s not. Ashe smiles and greets him in class the next morning, and in every morning after as well. They cross paths in the greenhouse a couple more times, share cooking duty one night and, by the end of the month, end up spending time together outside of class almost every day.

Dedue had never expected to make a friend in Fódlan beyond Dimitri, not in Fhirdiad nor at Garreg Mach. Yet, as he spends their class’s journey to the Red Canyon next to Ashe rather than His Highness, he can’t help but think that maybe, somehow, he had anyways.

  
—

  
“I’ve never killed anyone before.” Ashe confides as the Blue Lions travel back to Garreg Mach dirty and exhausted. Once again Dimitri is traveling along side their Professor at the head of the group, and Ashe was quick to fall into pace with Dedue not far behind them. Dedue doesn’t mind; the rest of their class all keep their distance and it is admittedly nice to have the company.

“It is not easy.” Dedue says, “But sometimes it has to be done.”

“I know.” There’s an unfamiliar look on Ashe’s face as he stares out into the horizon. In the late afternoon sun their shadows stretch out across the dirt road like giants, yet even then Dedue’s is comically large compared to his companion. “Even though they were bandits who had done horrible things, I can’t help but wish there was a way to resolve it without fighting.”

  
—

  
Their next mission is one that Dedue dreads from the moment their professor announces it, for he can see the way that Ashe’s face shutters at the news. It’s to be expected, all things considered, but what’s truly shocking is how much Dedue hates it.

Though they still meet up to work together or study in the greenhouse, Ashe is uncharacteristically quiet. Conversations that used to be headed by the archer are now carried by Dedue instead, a task he is wholly unaccustomed to. He had never been a conversationalist, even before the tragedy, but the silences that used to be so comfortable between them were now wrought with an underlying sadness that he simply cannot stand.

So instead he talks. About everything and nothing, whatever facts he’s learned about what’s growing in the greenhouse, comparing the plants to those native to Duscur, anything he can think of. Anything to try and coax a smile back onto his friend’s face. Ashe’s gaze always seems to fall back onto the violets in one of the back corners, as though just the sight of them transports him to a better time and place.

“They were my mother’s favorite.” Ashe says softly one afternoon, after catching Dedue watching him intently. He had not intended to ask, didn’t want to potentially dredge up anything that Ashe might not have wanted to think about. It’s a familiar feeling to Dedue, not one that he’d inflict upon his friend when Ashe was already so dour, “She grew some in a windowbox in our little apartment above the restaurant, she’d tuck them behind her ear some days, braid them into her hair on others. When my parents died there was nothing we could keep of theirs, so violets feel like the only thing I have left of them. Christophe helped me plant some in the back gardens of Gaspard manor, not long after Lonato took us in and it was one of my favorite places to be, second only to the library.” His gaze finally drifts from the flowers to his friend, and there is a sadness in his eyes that Dedue would move mountains to take away.

The thought is an unexpected one. While he has considered Ashe as a friend for a couple moons now, the sheer force of his desire to help is nothing he had ever experienced before for anyone but Dimitri. And while dedication to his liege will always be his priority, he longs to do something, _anything_ , that could bring back Ashe’s smile.

In the end, however, there is little Dedue can do. The end of the Garland Moon comes, and their class travels to Gaspard to quell the growing rebellion. And quell it they do, at the cost of Lonato’s life and Ashe’s smile. When they return to Garreg Mach, Dedue trails behind Dimitri and the professor alone and in silence, and while that had once been peaceful, he cannot help but loathe it now.

Dedue realizes in the days and weeks after Lonato's death, days and weeks in which he can staunchly feel the absence of Ashe working at his side in the greenhouse, that what he feels is more than friendship. The revelation just makes his heart heavier, for he could never burden Ashe with these feelings of his, not when he's already lost so much. There is no room in Dedue's life for romance, his heart and soul long since pledged to Dimitri, and Ashe deserves someone who will dedicate their life to him. 

Still, his heart aches for the boy who sits alone in the cathedral, aches to sit beside him and pull him close, aches to tell him that he is not alone. Ashe is a friend, his only one beyond Dimitri, and to see Ashe like this is a visceral reminder that life is cruel. 

As he has for every day before, Dedue leaves without a word. There’s nothing he can do, he reminds himself. His pity will do nothing to quell the ache that Ashe feels right now, and he cannot offer more than that. Instead he returns to Dimitri’s side, finding the prince tucked away in a quiet corner of the library.

“Oh, Dedue, you’re back.” Dimitri looks up from the book in front of him as Dedue sits across the table, “How is Ashe?”

It is not a question that Dedue had expected, and the stern line of his mouth tugs downward into a frown, “What do you mean, Your Highness?”

“This is usually about the hour that you go to see him, so I assumed that’s where you’d gone.”

“You misunderstand.” Dedue answers, “I have not spoken to him since our last mission. I get the feeling he wants to be left alone.”

It is Dimitri’s turn to frown, “He is grieving, yes, but companionship would likely do him some good. He is so quick to try and help relieve the rest of our class whenever they have a problem, I hate to think that no one would do the same for him. I would do it myself, but given his propriety I’m afraid it would only make things worse. But the two of you are friends, surely he would appreciate it.”

And they _are_ friends, as strange as the thought is to Dedue. It’s something Dedue had never expected to find here in their year at Garreg Mach, and yet here it is all the same.

“I am afraid I do not know what to say.” Dedue admits, “What _can_ I say?”

“I don’t think you have to say much at all.” Dimitri says, “Just let him know that you are there for him. He needs a friend right now.”

Dimitri is right, of course. While there is nothing Dedue can do to bring back what was lost or fix what was broken, Ashe deserves to have someone by his side to help him through it all the same. Ashe has suffered enough, has lost parents three times now, and if Dedue can bring him even the slightest modicum of happiness that Ashe has given him these past months, that will be enough.

The sun is just beginning to set as Dedue makes his way to the greenhouse. Most of the monastery’s occupants are settling down for dinner in the dining hall, and those that are still milling about pay little mind to Dedue. 

Perhaps it is foolish of him to give Ashe something that is so heavily associated with romance in Fódlan when he has no intention of ever confessing, but Dedue can think of little else. With the Garland Moon having just passed, the floral arrangements had been prevalent across Garreg Mach and though he may be a few weeks late with it, he can only hope that it is something his friend might appreciate.

Dedue’s fingers are steady as he works, weaving violets together into a floral crown just as his sister had instructed him so many times in their youth. It is, admittedly, a little sloppy — nothing like the ones that had been for sale at nearly every shop last month — but he knows of the flower’s significance to Ashe, and hopefully that will make up for its appearance.

It’s dark once he’s finished and headed back across the monastery, the moon lighting the way. At this hour the cathedral is all but deserted, yet he still finds Ashe seated in one of the empty pews. For a moment, Dedue hesitates. Was this truly a good idea? Certainly Ashe has sequestered himself out here out of a desire to be alone, would he really appreciate Dedue’s interruption?

But it’s too late for second guessing, so Dedue simply clears his throat and asks, “May I join you?”

Ashe’s head jerks up in surprise, though Dedue had been making no effort to approach him quietly. He does seem to relax upon the recognition of his friend, his shoulders slumping forward, “Oh, Dedue. Yes, of course, though I’m afraid I’m not very good company as of late.”

Ashe’s gaze falls back to his hands still folded in his lap, and sitting next to him now Dedue can see the telltale hint of red in his eyes. It makes something surge up in him, compels him to wrap his arms around the archer and never let go. That, of course, is a foolish notion. He has nothing to give Ashe beyond friendship. Friendship and a woven garland of violets.

“It is not much, but I made you something.” Dedue says softly, holding the flower crown out to his friend. Ashe’s eyes widen at the sight of it and then, much to Dedue’s horror, fill with tears. Suddenly the garland burns in his hands, for he has made a horrible mistake. “I’m sorry, it was presumptuous of me-”

To his surprise, Ashe laughs. His cheeks are wet as the tears spill freely, but for the first time in weeks there is a smile on his face, “Don’t be sorry Dedue, I love it. Thank you.” He reaches out to take it, cradling it in his hands as though it is something precious before placing it gently on his head. The purple of the violets is vibrant against Ashe’s silver hair, and Dedue cannot help but think that the color looks lovely on him. “Really, thank you.” Ashe continues, peering up at Dedue with watery eyes, “I’m not sure what I did to deserve a friend like you, but words cannot express how grateful I am that I do.”

Somehow, Dedue cannot help but feel as though he should be the grateful one.

  
—

  
2.

It is dark at Garreg Mach, but far from quiet. Edelgard’s troops will be at their doorstep by morning and the monastery is not ready. The mere month that they had had to prepare for this war could never have been enough, and so even now, as the night stretches on, knights, monks, and students alike are scrambling to ready for the conflict ahead of them.

Dimitri had not been sleeping well even before the Flame Emperor’s true identity was revealed, and now speaks of nothing but revenge. As much as Dedue wishes there were something he could do, he cannot reach his prince now. Not until Edelgard is dead.

The greenhouse is deserted, as it usually is this time of night. While other parts of the monastery are unusually active tonight, those preparing for war have no need of plants. After all, everything that could be useful medicinally had long since been harvested, leaving behind little but those purely for aesthetic. Fortunately for Dedue, that is precisely what he needs.

He had convinced himself months ago that there would be no point in confessing his feelings, instead keeping them locked tightly away in his chest. Even now, Dedue doubted that there was a way forward for him and Ashe, assuming that his affections were even returned. There is no future for them, this he knows all too well, but with war on the horizon and no guarantee that they’ll survive past tomorrow Dedue has no intentions of dying with any regrets.

Violets, of course, for those are Ashe’s favorites. Faithfulness, they mean, for of course the people of Fódlan had at some point assigned meanings to all of their flowers. Forget-me-nots, for the months that they had spent together here, and baby’s breath for Ashe’s pure heart. A sprig of lavender for devotion, and a single rose, for the love that Dedue had sworn to never tell. 

Whether or not Ashe knows any of these things, he doesn’t know. At this point Dedue doesn’t even particularly care. It is all an inherently useless gesture, given what awaits them come morning, but one that Ashe deserves all the same.

When the bundle in his hands is appropriately arranged, Dedue ties the stems with a ribbon and admires his work. It is certainly more diverse than the garland he had made for Ashe those eight months back, a brighter blend of colors while still incorporating the favored violets. In a way, it is reminiscent of the bouquets of wildflowers that Dedue and his sister would gather for their mother, despite not a single one of the flowers being the same.

The walk back to their dorm rooms is short and brisk. No one so much as spares Dedue a second glance when he passes, an unfamiliar anonymity that he has spent years longing for. It would be nice, if not for the circumstances.

Dedue stops outside Ashe’s door, takes a moment to collect himself, before rapping on the wood with his free hand.

“Oh, Dedue!” Ashe’s eyes are wide when he opens the door, and even with only the faint candlelight flickering behind him the shadows beneath them are clear as day, “Is something wrong?”

“No, ah, I just wanted to give these to you.” Dedue holds the bouquet out as an offering, and only then does Ashe seem to notice them. It speaks volumes of his exhaustion, and for all that Dedue has spent the past months worrying about Dimitri’s sleeping habits it had never occurred to him to do the same for his other friend’s. Ashe, after all, takes everything with a smile, hiding his worries away behind it so as not to bother anyone with them.

“Oh. Um. Thank you.” Ashe takes the bouquet awkwardly, holding it to his chest as though it is something precious and looking back up at Dedue, “Would you… like to come in?”

The room Dedue steps into is a mess, books and archery equipment strewn about without any of the usual care that Ashe treats his possessions. Ashe puts the bouquet in a vase on the windowsill, carefully arranging the flowers in it before grabbing the near empty pitcher of water from his desk to pour into it. 

“Thank you for these, Dedue, they’re lovely. I think this might be the first time anyone’s ever given me flowers.”

That alone is enough to make him regret not giving Ashe flowers every single day that they’ve known each other, and when Ashe turns back to him with a sad smile the sentiment only grows. He wants to say as much, to make sure that on this night that could very well be their last, Ashe knows how sincerely he is loved.

Instead all he says is “I did not mean to interrupt your work. I can go, if you would like.”

“No!” Ashe interjects, only to wince immediately after, “I mean… please stay. I’ve spent the last few hours restringing my bow and fletching arrows just to keep myself busy and I’d… much rather sit and talk, if that’s alright with you.”

“I would like that.” Dedue says, and he can see Ashe’s sigh of relief.

With the desk chair piled high with books and a quiver full of arrows, they sit side by side on the edge of the bed instead. Their hands rest next to each other on the mattress and Dedue cannot help but want to join them, to share in that warmth at least for tonight. Instead he simply curls his fingers loosely into the blanket, a poor substitute for human touch.

The silence that stretches through the room is comfortable, the same camaraderie that they share together in the greenhouse and kitchen. It is not the same, though. The uncertainties of what is yet to come is palpable, far from the easy air that they had spent so many hours in before.

“Are you scared too?” Ashe asks eventually, the slightest hint of a tremor in his voice, and as much as Dedue wants to assure him otherwise he doesn’t have it in him to lie. Not to Ashe. Not tonight.

“More than you can imagine.”

Ashe turns to him, just barely, the candlelight from his desk making his seafoam eyes glisten, “Because of His Highness?”

“In part.” Even without touching, Dedue can see how Ashe’s hand trembles in between them, and without thinking he takes it in his own. Though the light in the room is dim Ashe’s immediate blush is obvious, stark across his usually pale skin and Dedue cannot help but marvel at how it accents his freckles. Before he can come to regret his impulsiveness, however, Ashe’s hand is turning in his, their fingers interlacing and the sheer warmth of it makes his heart swell.

They’re close now, so close that he can feel the thumping of Ashe’s heart and oh, by the gods does Dedue want to hold him. To keep them safe together for this one night, before war breaks out in the morning and tears them apart.

In the end it’s Ashe that makes the first move, his head tilted upwards and his neck craning to fill the distance between them and Dedue cannot help himself. He leans down, joining their lips in a chaste kiss. Ashe melts into him, his free hand pressed to Dedue’s chest where he can surely feel the rapid beat of his heart.

It doesn’t last long, no more than a couple of seconds, yet when they part his pulse is racing like they had just come from battle.

“I won’t pretend to know what will happen tomorrow.” Dedue murmurs, leaning down just enough so that their foreheads press together, “But I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Ashe.”

“Will you… stay here tonight?” Ashe asks, and the implications of his words seem to hit him a moment after, for his face flushes a dark red, “N-not like that! I just— I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Of course.” Dedue doesn’t either, not tonight. Everything will change tomorrow, and there is nothing he can do about it. But tonight, at least, he can take his fate into his own hands.

Ashe’s face softens, in a way that shouldn’t be possible for one who had seen so many of the world’s cruelties, yet Dedue had seen it time and time again. It is, perhaps, one of the reasons Dedue cannot help but love him. 

There is no telling what tomorrow will bring, but tonight, at least, Dedue will let himself have this.

  
—

  
3.

Garreg Mach is quieter these days. It is only their ragtag army that live there now; the remaining Blue Lions, the few students from other classes that the Professor had coerced into joining theirs five years ago, and the slow trickle of Knights that were returning from their cross country search for the Archbishop. It’s a far cry from the bustling place that Ashe remembered from five years ago.

They’re all trying to make the best of it, and as much as Ashe is overjoyed to see all of his old friends again, it just isn’t the same.

Not when the one he had most wanted to see would never be there again.

Still, there is little time for mourning in the midst of war, especially when the king who should have been leading them was mad with bloodlust. It is a stark contrast from the ever proper Dimitri that Ashe had known at the Officer’s Academy, and he avoids him as much as possible. He had asked, once, about Dedue, within the first moon that they had returned. It was a mistake he would not make again.

The war goes on. While there is a sliver of new hope now that their Professor had returned and they were gathered together to fight, it is not long lived. Not only do Edelgard’s forces vastly outnumber them, they also have the training and funding that their small resistance army couldn’t even dream of. And with the in-fighting amongst the Alliance territories and the few Kingdom lords still loyal to Dimitri having their hands full fighting off the new Faerghus Dukedom, there is nowhere to turn for help.

Rodrigue and his men are a blessing, regardless of Felix’s complaints about it. It is still far from enough, however, and Ashe cannot help but feel that every day they go into battle will be their last. He’s never been one for pessimism, not even back during his days on the streets of Gaspard, but it grows harder and harder to hold onto hope. Whenever he can he retreats to the greenhouse, if not to tend to the plants than to simply sit among them for a brief moment of peace.

And if there are tears in his eyes when he returns to his old dorm room to set his gaze upon the vase of withered, long dead flowers still sitting upon his window sill, well, there’s no one around to see it.

  
—

  
Their victory at the Great Bridge of Myrddin seems like a dream, even long after they’ve departed back to Garreg Mach. Ashe feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin for the entire trip home, his eyes never daring to leave the large form that rides alongside Dimitri at the head of their group.

For months now he had mourned Dedue. Ever since their reunion all those moons ago, when Dimitri had first delivered the devastating news, Ashe had been drowning in it, reliving every last memory from five years prior as though that would bring him back. There had been so much that Ashe had wanted to tell him upon reuniting, so much that he would never get to say.

Except now he can, because Dedue is here and he is _alive_ and this time the tears that Ashe is holding back are ones of joy.

“You’re certainly in a good mood.” Annette comments with a sly smile, bumping her shoulder against him as they walk the trail that winds up to Garreg Mach.

“And you aren’t?” Ashe asks back, his own smile wide enough to make his cheeks hurt.

“Touche.” Annette hums, “So what’re you going to do now?”

“Talk, of course.” He says, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. There was so much to be said, both from their five years apart and from the things Ashe hadn’t been able to say before.

Of course there’s no space to talk on the road, but as soon as they return to the monastery they will surely find a moment. Once they have settled back down from this victory, there _must_ be a moment.

But that moment never comes. Whenever Ashe tries to seek Dedue out he finds him by Dimitri’s side, hovering over the prince as though that is his sole duty in life. Even when Ashe calls out he cannot get Dedue’s attention and, truthfully, he doesn’t know why he ever expected anything else.

Dedue’s loyalties had always been to His Highness first and foremost. Sweet promises whispered in the dark five years ago on the cusp of war mean nothing now in the thick of it.

It’s stupid, he knows, to be so torn up about this. They’re in the middle of a war for the Goddess’ sake, romance should be the last thing on his mind. Still, as Ashe sits in his room, staring at the long dead remains of a bouquet sitting in a bone dry vase, he cannot bring himself to throw them out. He has never been one to cling to material possessions, yet just the thought of getting rid of that one reminder of the sole nigh spent together makes his heart clench in his chest. Before Myrrdin it was because it was all he had left of Dedue. Now, by some miracle of the Goddess that Ashe no longer quite believes in, Dedue has returned to them. It’s just not in the capacity that Ashe longed for.

There is no choice but to move on. Their clash with Edelgard at Gronder Field is looming on the horizon, and without the backup from Claude that they had hoped for it is imperative that all of the forces that they do have are at their best. Childish dreams of romance have no place on the battlefield. If Ashe wants to survive - and he does, for he refuses to let his siblings lose anyone else - he cannot waste time on the things he wishes could have been.

Dedue being alive is enough. Ashe will not ask for anything more than that.

  
—

  
Everything changes at Gronder. For the first time since the former Blue Lions had reunited at Garreg Mach all those moons ago, the Dimitri that they once knew was returned to them. And for the first time in five years there finally seems to be hope among them, a chance that they could still emerge from this victorious. 

With the return of their rightful king comes plans to finally reclaim Fhirdiad, a stark change from their previous talks of taking Enbarr, and as such the month passes by in a flurry of preparations and strategizing. Ashe doesn’t partake in much of the latter, has never had the mind for it, and he’s quite content with leaving it to Byleth and Dimitri. There is more than enough for him to do otherwise, and though his gaze lingers on Dedue whenever they’re gathered for war councils he no longer tries to talk to him. 

It’s better this way, Ashe tells himself. His love for Dedue had always been a foolish one. 

Instead of thinking about it, Ashe throws himself into any work that he can. He mucks out the stables, feeds the wyverns, trains with anyone who will have him until his arms are too sore to lift, anything to keep him busy as the next stage of the war ticks ever closer. He is only as useful as his actions, so he works from dawn to dusk without hesitation. When night comes he is exhausted enough that he falls asleep as soon as he hits his bed, not so much as a second left to think about the things that could have been.

The night before they begin their march comes all too soon and, of course, that is when the easy sleep ends. It’s no different from their previous campaigns, where Ashe will over think to the point of insomnia before a battle, so when he hears the cathedral’s bell strike midnight and he is still lying wide awake in his bed he exhales sharply and gets up. A walk through the monastery grounds should clear his head, or at the very least use up some of the energy that’s coiled deep inside him and make way for sleep.

And, if nothing else, he’s sure to stumble across one of Garreg Mach’s many strays along the way and a quick cuddle session is sure to calm at least some of these nerves. With summer blooming in Fódlan it’s warm enough even now in the dead of night that Ashe doesn’t need a jacket over his night shirt and pants, and instead simply toes on his boots before heading out.

His eyes linger, as they always do, on the door next to his own when he steps out. He had stopped trying to talk to Dedue a moon and a half ago, when they had still been gearing up to head to Gronder, and for all Ashe knows it could never work out between them he still can’t help but miss his friend. The hours they spent together in the kitchen and the greenhouse were his most cherished memories of their time at the Officer’s Academy, the ones he had clung to the most over these past few years of the war. 

But there is little use in clinging to those now, Ashe reminds himself as he meanders south towards the pond. Thinking about anything besides the upcoming battles is foolish, not if he wants to live to see the end of this damned war. Perhaps their friendship can be reborn, but now is not the time for it.

“Of course the cat likes to sleep with Caspar.” Ashe mutters to himself as he meanders down the dark and familiar path, his thoughts drifting longingly to the fluffy menace that used to haunt the kitchens. He could use someone to cuddle right now, rather than this aimless walk he’s embarked on. The rest of the monastery’s strays seem to have all tucked themselves away for the night, as the path that’s usually littered with dogs and cats alike is barren of both. 

All thoughts of cuddling are quick to vanish when Ashe reaches the top of the stairs leading down towards the greenhouse only to notice a light coming from within it. At this hour there shouldn’t be anyone in there; Ashe is fairly certain he’s the only former student that has a spare key, and he sincerely doubts that the greenhouse keeper herself would feel compelled to do some midnight gardening. And while he can’t _think_ of any nefarious reasons someone might have to break into Garreg Mach’s greenhouse in the middle of the night he still recalls the Professor suggesting such a thing back when they had been tasked with guarding the Holy Mausoleum during the Rite of Rebirth.

Ashe is pretty sure that he was just joking back then, but it has always been hard to tell with Byleth.

Either way, curiosity wins out over fear (because it surely can’t be a _ghost_ in there, right?) and he quietly heads down to investigate.

The greenhouse door is not only unlocked but ever so slightly ajar when he approaches. In the back of his mind, Ashe curses himself for not thinking to bring anything that could have been used as a weapon. Not that he had expected needing a weapon on what was supposed to be a peaceful stroll, but that’s besides the point now. There’s a spade lying in the planter box just left of the door, and using every ounce of stealth he had learned from his days as a thief Ashe darts in and grabs it from the dirt.

Makeshift weapon gripped tightly in hand, he slowly makes his way further inside. The light is coming from the back left corner, where there’s chamomile and Noa fruit growing, and he approaches with cautious dread. His heart is beating louder than a drum as he peeks around the corner, and but the sight that greets him immediately has all of the tension that had been building up in him slipping away.

It’s only Dedue, carefully tending to the budding flowers, and Ashe cannot help but breathe a sigh of relief. 

In the quiet of the greenhouse, however, that sigh might as well have been a war cry.

Dedue is on his feet in an instant, eyes narrowed as he searches for the perceived threat. Suddenly the relief that had flooded through Ashe is swept away as their eyes meet, and he cannot help but realize that this is the first time they’ve been alone together since that night five years ago. What should he say? What can he say, when face to face with the person he loves, the person he had mourned so deeply, but who does not feel the same?

Realization seems to come to Dedue as well, for the tension leaves his shoulders, “I did not expect anyone else to be up this late.”

“I’m sorry if I startled you.” Ashe says weakly, “I couldn’t sleep so I was taking a walk. When I saw a light on in here I thought I would check. I’ll leave, I’m sorry for interrupting.”

Ashe turns to go, to flee before he makes a fool of himself (as if he hasn’t already, standing there with a spade in hand in his nightclothes, what an _idiot_ he must look right now). Except there’s a hand around his wrist, pulling him back with all of the gentleness he has come to associate with Dedue. Even Dedue himself seems surprised when Ashe looks back at him, as though he hadn’t even realized he had made the move.

“You don’t… have to go. If you don’t want to.” He offers softly, and it is so typically _Dedue_ that Ashe cannot help but smile. Maybe not all is lost. Maybe he can still have this friendship, if nothing else.

“What are you doing out here so late?” Ashe asks, 

“Same as you, I suppose.” Dedue says, letting go of Ashe’s wrist now that he’s determined the other is staying, “Sleep does not come easily these days, and this has always been my favorite place in Garreg Mach. I haven’t had the time to visit since I’ve been back.”

“I’m glad that you are. Back, that is.”

Dedue smiles, “I am too. I… missed you.”

Ashe knows not to read too much into it, that Dedue means it as a friend. Still his heart races, his face flushed, and he can only hope that it goes unnoticed in the dim light of the single lantern. “So, um. What were you looking at?”

“Oh.” Dedue turns back to the planter, “I was simply taking note of what was growing. This used to be where the violets were. Are you not growing them anymore?”

“Everything had to be replanted when we came back to the monastery, and we’ve been prioritizing plants that could be useful.” Ashe explains, “Crops, herbs, and so on. No room for violets or other such useless things these days. I bought some seeds from one of the merchants in town, but with nowhere to plant them they’ve just been sitting in my room collecting dust.”

“There will be space to plant them soon.” Dedue says, “The tides have finally turned in our favor, after all. Soon Fhirdiad will be ours again, and then we can end this once and for all.”

“We couldn’t have done it without you.” Ashe murmurs, keeping his eyes on the plants rather than Dedue, “Even without the help at Myrddin, I doubt His Highness would have come back to us without you. I’ve long since accepted the possibility of dying in this war, but with you here again it’s the first time I’ve thought about actually living through all of this.”

“I said that I would not let anything happen to you, and I have no intention of breaking that promise now.” Dedue tells him, and when Ashe’s gaze snaps to meet his there is nothing but honesty in those kind green eyes. “I am sorry that I wasn’t here earlier to keep it.”

And oh, how Ashe wants nothing more than to fling himself at Dedue. For so long he’s been bottling up his emotions, keeping everything inside because there’s no time to break down when you’re fighting a war, but this, right here, is what he’s missed more than anything. 

It would be so easy to misinterpret it, to put words in Dedue’s mouth that he never meant. So instead Ashe keeps to himself, offering only a half-hearted smile that surely does not reach his eyes. “It’s fine, Dedue, really. You had far more important things than me to worry about.”

At that Dedue frowns, “Forgive me if I have said something wrong, I did not mean to upset you.”

“No, no, it’s nothing.” Ashe insists, forcing the smile even more, “I’m just tired, is all. I should probably get to bed.” He has never been one to turn tail and run, but he fears his heart might just burst if he stays, and there could be no telling what foolish things he might say then. 

“Please, Ashe.” Dedue murmurs, and Ashe cannot help the way his heart catches in his throat at the sound of his name in that soothingly familiar voice. It’s the first time he’s heard it in years, and it takes him back to that night in a heartbeat. The way Dedue had whispered it against his lips in the dark, their bodies pressed together in the too small bed for the one night they were allowed to have together. Five years Ashe had clung to that memory, pushing through for the day that he could have it again. Five moons he had held it close to his heart, knowing that he never would. 

It’s stupid, to be caught up in heartbreak when there’s a damned war going on.

“Really, Dedue, I’m fine.” Ashe continues, though which of them he’s trying to convince even he isn’t sure of, “Please don’t waste the time worrying about me.”

“You are my friend,” Dedue says, as though it is the most obvious thing in the world, “Of course I will worry for you.”

“You shouldn’t.” Ashe says before he can stop himself, long repressed emotions slithering up his throat like vines and he can hardly breath around them, “I’m sorry, Dedue, I know it’s the same kindness you offer to everyone but my heart can’t tell the difference. You shouldn’t have to put up with my feelings on top of everything else.”

Dedue is silent for a long moment. Though Ashe can’t imagine that Dedue’s response will be cruel, he still can’t bring himself to look up at him. Instead he stares down at his hands, one still holding that _stupid_ spade, and pretends not to notice the way that they tremble. 

“My apologies.” Dedue eventually says, and Ashe forces a smile back onto his face. 

“There’s no need for them.” Ashe says, “It’s my problem to deal with, and I could never blame you for not feeling the same.”

“I was apologizing,” Dedue continues, painfully gentle as he reaches out to take one of Ashe’s hands in his own. Carefully he eases white-knuckled fingers from their death grip around the base of the spade, replacing it with his own and a tender squeeze, “For ever making you feel as though I did not love you. It should not have taken this long for us to speak, and that is wholly my fault. Though it is no excuse, His Highness was worse than I ever could have imagined, and… I am afraid that I lost sight of all else but him. There are no words that could undo the hurt that I have done to you, but I have not once stopped loving you these past five years.”

It’s too much. For weeks now Ashe had berated himself for his foolishness, for ever having allowed himself to believe that these feelings of his could ever have been reciprocated. He had never been someone’s first choice, never had been wanted over anyone else, and why should this have been any different? While he had always longed to hear those simple words, it had never been anything more than a fantasy.

Except here Dedue was, as kind and gentle as always, holding Ashe’s hand as though he were something precious.

Ashe doesn’t even realize that tears have started flowing freely from his eyes until there is a finger wiping them away, and only then does he dare to turn his gaze upward. There’s no anger or contempt on Dedue’s face, no disgust or hatred or pity. And of course there isn’t, because Dedue had always been one of the few to never look at Ashe as though he was something _lesser_. 

Belatedly, Ashe realizes that Dedue is probably waiting for a response. He looks as calm as always, though the corners of his eyes are pinched ever so slightly, and for the first time Ashe actually _looks_ at him. Every scar carved into his face tells a story of survival, of pain and misery and _triumph_ , and oh how desperately Ashe wishes to know about each and every one. 

He could ask. Dedue would probably tell him.

That’s the revelation that finally has Ashe throwing himself forward, unable to help the muffled sob that wrenches itself from his lips. He loses himself in the warmth of Dedue’s arms, in the comfort of his embrace, for this, more than anything else, is _home_.

“I cannot bear to see you cry.” Dedue confesses in a whisper, so softly that it’s almost lost in the silence of the empty greenhouse. “Even more so when I am the cause. Would it be selfish of me to ask for a smile?”

It is only then that Ashe pulls back, just enough for their gazes to meet, and the look on his face is positively radiant. His arms are curled tightly around Dedue’s neck, with Dedue’s own holding him at his waist, and it is an embrace that he cannot fathom leaving. Not now that he had finally gotten it back. 

“You’ll be hard pressed to get me to stop now.” Ashe counters, and though there is a slight hiccup in the words it is belayed by the grin that stretches from ear to ear. Dedue cannot help but answer with one of his own, and though it is little more than a quirking of the corners of his lips, it is every inch just as sincere.

In the distance, the cathedral’s bell rings once more. It is a hearkening back to the very first afternoon that they had spent together in this very same greenhouse, especially when Ashe’s eyes widen at the realization that comes with it, “I can’t believe I forgot how late it is. We’re leaving for Fhirdiad in just a few hours!”

“I suppose we ought to get whatever sleep we can.” Dedue agrees, though he makes no moves to break their embrace, “Even just a little will be better than nothing.”

“Walk with me?” Ashe asks, knowing full well that it’s a pointless question. Their rooms are right next to each other, after all.

“Of course.” Dedue says, taking Ashe’s hand in his own. It is a poor replacement for the warmth of being in each other’s arms, and the night air that they step out into feels colder than it was when he’d first gone out for his walk. Still, Dedue is walking beside him, real and alive and _his_ , somehow, and Ashe could ask for nothing less.

They part with a soft kiss at Ashe’s door and whispers of good night, along with the silent promise that each would be there come morning.

And when Ashe stumbles out of his room in the early light of dawn, half dressed to get some breakfast before their march begins, Dedue is there, fresh flowers in hand. 

  
—

  
4.

The war is over. It’s over and they _won_ and nothing about it feels real yet. Dedue knows there’s still a million and one things to do, an entire fractured continent to unite into a single kingdom, and yet as he watches Dimitri emerge victorious he can’t help but feel hope. 

With their emperor dead, the remaining Adrestian troops are quick to surrender and it is a welcomed relief. The possibility of the fighting continuing even after Edelgard’s death had been a very real one, one that Dedue was perfectly happy to avoid. Enough lives had already been lost in this bloody crusade. 

The city outside of the palace is largely untouched, the fighting that had occurred there having been kept to a small and direct path up to the palace itself. But those few streets were littered with bodies and caked with drying blood, casualties from both sides. It is an unspeakable relief that, as Dedue walks through them, there are no familiar faces to be seen. He can recognize a few as members of his classmate’s battalions, but none that he knows personally.

Regardless of if he knows them, however, it is still a terrible loss. The lives that had been taken during these past five years had already been far too many, despite which side they had fought for. Edelgard’s vision of a new Fódlan had wreaked havoc across every inch of the land, tearing apart families without care, and for what? What sort of world was she trying to bring about by violence and violence alone?

They would probably never know. All that could be done now was to start the process of healing, to mend the remains of what had once been three countries into a whole.

“Dedue!” At the sound of his name, Dedue turns just in time to catch Ashe in his arms, the smaller man laughing even as tears stream down his freckled cheeks, “It’s over. It’s finally over, can you believe it?”

“It feels good.” Dedue answers, leaning down to press his forehead against Ashe’s, “How are you? Any injuries?”

“Nothing that won’t heal.” Ashe says with a hum, curling into their embrace despite the sharp and bloodied edges of Dedue’s armor, “What about you?”

“That was not a no.” Dedue notes in lieu of his own answer, “Where are you injured?”

Ashe laughs, a sound far too melodious for their grim surroundings, “I’m fine, Dedue. A lance got me in the side while I was covering Felix, but it’s nothing serious.”

Immediately Dedue pulls back, and while the pout on Ashe’s face is as plain as day he ignores it in favor of reaching out to tenderly examine the sliced fabric and dark stain just below the straps of Ashe’s chest guard. Even with only the slightest of touches his hand comes away sticky with blood, and his frown is immediate, “We need to get you to the healers.”

“I was going to go right after I found you, I promise.” Ashe says softly, taking Dedue’s bloodstained hand in his own without a second thought, “It’s really not that bad, so wipe that look off of your face.”

Dedue isn’t sure what kind of look is on his face right now, just that his heart is pounding in a way it never does during battles, “I will take you.” It’s the only thing he can think to say, and he can hear Ashe’s protests before they’re even said.

“You don’t have to, I’m—” The rest is his sentence is cut off with a yelp as Dedue scoops him up into his arms, his face turning a bright red, “Dedue! I can walk just fine!”

“It will be faster this way.” Dedue says, and starts towards the infirmary tents before Ashe can utter so much as a single word of dissent. It can’t possibly be comfortable against his armor, but Ashe doesn’t complain, his flushed face instead buried into the soft knit of Dedue’s scarf. 

The tents are set up at the fringes of Enbarr, where their battle had started in what felt like eternities ago but really had been nothing more than hours. It’s practically packed to the gills already, every single cot already occupied while their healers scurry between them in an attempt to give everyone the attention they need.

Without any more beds, Dedue sets Ashe down gently on the ground, a gloved hand seeking out one of Ashe’s own to give it a gentle squeeze. “I should probably go.” He murmurs, “I would just be in the way here.”

“You don’t need to stay, I’m sure His Highness needs you.” Ashe replies, and through the din of the crowded tent it’s barely audible despite how close they are.

Dedue frowns, for this is far from the first time that they have had this conversation, “I would if I could, Ashe. I need you to know that.”

“I do,” Ashe tells him, his voice tender, “I promise. But right now you’re needed elsewhere. I’ll come find you later.”

“As soon as you do I’m not letting you out of my sight for a week.” Dedue says, bending down to press a kiss to Ashe’s forehead, “That is a promise.”

“I will hold you to it.” Ashe says with a fond smile, “Now go! You’ve got far more important things to be doing than waiting around here.”

  
—

  
The sun had long set by the time Dedue and Dimitri are able to head back to their camp, exhausted down to their bones. Politics is an unfamiliar beast to Dedue, though one that he is going to learn intimately in the upcoming years. Right now, however, all he wants is something to eat and Ashe by his side. 

With anyone else, such a walk in prolonged silence might have been uncomfortable, but when it is Dimitri at his side Dedue does not mind. Though their camaraderie is one born of blood and fire it is, in its own way, an easy one. They do not have to speak to know what the other is thinking, and it is one of the relationships that Dedue had missed most in the years since the war’s beginning.

They find their former class settled around a campfire, exhausted beyond belief but ultimately alive. It is something of a miracle, that they not only managed to win this war but to do so without losing any of their classmates. 

It is Sylvain that notices them first, raising a hand in greeting as he calls out over the flame, “Your Highness! Dedue! All done for the night?”

“Not nearly,” Dimitri answers forlornly, “But after today I believe we all deserve a good rest. There will be plenty of time tomorrow.”

“We’ve saved you some food!” Mercedes says cheerily, “Though if you’ve already eaten I’m sure Ingrid would be happy to have it.”

“Most appreciated.” Dedue says, accepting the plate that is offered to him before settling into the space beside Ashe, who leans against him without a second thought. Now that he’s sitting the exhaustion seems to all hit at once, the last of the adrenaline from the battle evaporating into the night. While Dedue doubts that anyone has ever gotten a truly restful night of sleep in military bedrolls, he suspects that tonight it just might happen.

“How is your wound?” Dedue asks, soft enough not to interrupt the ongoing conversation, and Ashe tilts his head up just enough to give him a smile.

“It’s fine, Dedue. Mercie took care of the worst of it and the rest will heal in time. You really worry too much.”

Dedue lets out a quiet huff, “I believe I worry the appropriate amount, all things considered.”

“And you know I love that about you.” Ashe tells him, “But it really wasn’t that bad. I promise.”

Dedue hums, pressing a kiss to the side of Ashe’s head as he tunes back in to the group’s conversation while tucking into his meal. Caspar is in the process of telling a story with far too much energy than any of them could possibly have at this point. Just watching him is exhausting, and with the warmth of Ashe pressed against his side he cannot help the way his eyes start to drift shut.

He doesn’t know how long it is before the group begins to disperse, with the moon already high in the sky and a bone deep exhaustion it’s too hard to tell. It is a slow process, his friends leaving in twos and threes to disperse back to their own tents, ready to pass out for a good few hours. It has been an endlessly long day, after endlessly long years, and though there is still much to be done, tonight, at least, they can sleep at ease.

Once most of the group is gone, Ashe shakily rises to his feet, accepting a helping hand from Dedue to get up only to immediately wince. Dedue frowns, opening his mouth to object only to be stopped by what he suspects is supposed to be a withering stare. Unfortunately for Ashe, it looks far more like a sad puppy than anything even remotely menacing.

“Not a word.” Ashe interjects, and Dedue doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he really shouldn’t be trying to pull off Felix-level glares, “It just aches a bit, it needs time to heal.”

“Of course.” Dedue says, shifting their hands into a more comfortable hold as they begin to walk, “But I did promise not to let you out of my sight, so I’m afraid you will have to cope with my worrying all the same.”

“Well I wouldn’t dare try to make you break a promise.” Ashe teases, “You’ve kept every one you’ve made before, after all.”

The camp is mostly quiet by now, though there are still a few sporadic campfires burning low in the night. Though the war may be over, there will still be soldiers taking turns keeping watch throughout the night, just in case. Thankfully, tonight that is not one of Dedue’s responsibilities. With Ashe by his side, heading off to retire together in a quiet tent just for the two of them, he has no desire to do anything but sleep until morning.

Dedue pauses mid-step, his eyes drawn to a patch of wildflowers that’s growing between two tents. He lets go of Ashe’s hand to examine the flowers further, ignoring the soft call of his name that follows. Amidst over grown grass and weeds there are a few sprouts of a deep blue flower that seems to glow under the moonlight. With a careful hand Dedue reaches out to pluck one from its stem, holding it gently as he rises back to his feet.

Ashe is already there by the time he turns around, peering curiously at the flower as well. “It’s lovely.”

“It is.” Dedue agrees as he offers it out to his lover. A smile splits across Ashe’s face, and though nothing could mask the exhaustion on it, it is a beautiful look all the same. Instead of taking the flower, however, Ashe reaches up to cup one hand on each side of Dedue’s face and pull him down into a kiss.

“I love you.” Ashe murmurs when they break, and though it is far from the first time he has said it, Dedue’s heart swells all the same. There’s the same earnestness behind the words that is in everything Ashe does, an honesty that might seem insincere coming from anyone else. But from Ashe it is nothing but the truth, and Dedue loves him all the more for it.

“And I you.” Dedue answers, taking Ashe’s hand in his once more, “Let’s get to bed.”

  
—

5.

  
Late autumn in Fhirdiad is cold, snow already dusting the grounds of the castle, but with the great hall packed to the brim with revelers there is no place for the chill. Dimitri’s coronation had been in the early afternoon, yet even with the sun long set the celebrations continue, both in the castle and out.

Dedue can hardly blame them, not when their victory was still so new, and certainly not when there’s a true smile on Dimitri’s face. It still doesn’t feel real, that the fighting has finally come to an end after all of these years. And while Dedue is hardly one for crowded parties, tonight seems like an adequate exception.

He has spent most of the day at Dimitri’s side, an ever-present guardian, but as the hour grows later and they continue to bounce between the variety of guests in attendance, Dedue cannot help but notice the lack of one in particular. How long had it been since he had last seen Ashe? The night is a blur of faces by this point, both familiar and not, but it has surely been hours since he had last seen their most prized archer.

“Excuse me for a minute, Your Highness.” Dedue murmurs, loud enough for only the two of them to hear.

“Please, Dedue, feel free to go enjoy yourself.” Dimitri says with a crooked smile, “I can take care of myself, you know.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Dedue answers, already scanning the ballroom for any of their friends that he might be able to convince to keep an eye on the king while he’s away. It is admittedly a bad habit of his, this constant overprotection of his dearest friend, but well warranted as far as Dedue is concerned. Dimitri’s downward spiral following his escape from Fhirdiad was not his fault, he knows, but the fear of it happening again is one he cannot shake.

Halfway across the room, he quietly asks Mercedes to please join Dimitri for awhile before he slips out the grand set of doors that led to the Queen’s garden. It is a far cry from what it once was, the once regal plants now little more than stubs. While it had continued to be maintained after the deaths of the King and Queen it seemed as though Cornelia had not held the same respect. It’s hardly a surprise, given that she hadn’t even cared a trifle about the people of Fhirdiad, but it is a shame all the same. 

It’s in the midst of the dilapidated gardens that he finds Ashe, examining the remains of what used to be rose bushes. There isn’t so much as a flower or bud in sight, only thorns and leaves, and even those are in poor shape.

“Have you been out here for long?” Dedue asks once he’s close enough to reach, wrapping his arm around the curve of Ashe’s waist and he cannot help but notice the chill of his pale skin.

“No, I just needed a little fresh air.” Though Ashe had started at the sudden touch, he leans into the embrace on instinct, casting a slight smile up at Dedue, “It’s silly, really, but being in there scares me in a way the war never did. I keep worrying that someone’s going to look at me and realize that I don’t belong here, that I’m just some street kid who wandered in to masquerade as someone of importance.”

“It is not silly at all.” Dedue assures him, pressing a kiss to the side of Ashe’s head, “We weren’t born into this, not like they were. Has someone said something to you?”

“No, nothing like that, it’s all just in my head, I know that.”

“You have been quiet since we left Garreg Mach.” Dedue notes, and he can feel Ashe tense up against him, “You do not have to tell me anything you do not want to, but if there is anything I could do to help I would like to know it.”

Ashe is quiet for a long moment, and Dedue allows him his time. When he finally speaks, his voice is no more than a little timid thing, “I feel like I don’t belong here. I’ve always felt that, really, even back when we were at the Officer’s Academy. And now that the war is finally over I’ve been thinking about what I want to do now, and… I guess it’s been weighing on me more than I thought.”

“Dimitri has every intention of making you a knight. Is that not what you’ve always wanted?”

“I don’t know…” Ashe whispers as he turns to lean more fully into the embrace, resting his forehead against the broad expanse of Dedue’s chest, “I’m tired of fighting. None of the books I’ve read have ever talked about the _price_ of being a knight, of taking someone’s life from them and then having to live with that for the rest of your own. I want to help people, but I don’t… I don’t want to kill anymore. Not unless I have to.”

It’s only then that Dedue pulls back, just enough so their eyes can meet, “Whatever you decide to do, I will support you. If that is not here then so be it. But I cannot leave Dimitri now, not after we have come so far.”

“I know.” Ashe says with a smile, reaching a hand up to cup Dedue’s face, “I would never ask you to. That’s one of the things I love about you, after all.”

“There is no rush to figure it out either.” Dedue continues, “You know that you are welcomed to stay here as long as you want, and no one would blame you if you wanted to take a break after all of this.”

“Very funny coming from the man who has never taken a day off in his life.” Ashe teases, gently tugging Dedue down for another short kiss, “Yes, I am well aware I’m welcomed here, no matter how out of place I feel. But I’ve never been one for sitting around and doing nothing, especially now.”

“I am certain we could find something to occupy you here while you decide.” Dedue hums, running his fingers through silver strands, “The garden certainly needs all the help it can get.”

“I’ve noticed.” Ashe reaches up to grab the hand in his hair, lacing their fingers together and pressing a kiss to Dedue’s knuckles, “The greenhouse is a wreck as well. It’s a shame, Lonato always talked about how gorgeous the queen’s gardens were. He didn’t come here frequently, I don’t think, being a minor lord and all, but he would tell me stories all the same. To a kid fresh off of the streets this place seemed surreal. The fact that someone like me could be here now still feels like a dream sometimes.”

“You have earned your place here a thousand times over.” Dedue tells him firmly, “Do not ever doubt that.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” Ashe says with a short laugh, “The king himself has told me, and Goddess knows I’m not about to argue with that. Maybe one of these days I’ll even be brave enough to call him by name.”

“He would like that.” Dedue agrees, placing one final kiss to the crown of Ashe’s head, “For now, however, let’s just get you back inside. Your skin is as cold as ice, my love.”

Despite the years, there’s something in the tenderness of Ashe’s smile that still makes Dedue’s heart skip a beat. Hand in hand, they walk back to the celebration together, the quiet of the gardens quickly replaced by the merriment of their kingdom. And if Dedue picks a lily from one of the table’s centerpieces, tucking it reverently behind Ashe’s ear, well, no one’s paying them any mind.

  
—

  
+1.

War may end, but the consequences of it remain. Even a whole year past and there is as much work to be done as the day that Enbarr had fallen. Dedue doesn’t particularly mind; he all but lives by Dimitri’s side, if not at the castle in Fhirdiad then in countless other places of the newly united Fódlan and beyond. It is tedious and tiring, but it is the proof that they won.

The majority of the damage that had been inflicted on the castle had been repaired, but the rebuilding of towns throughout Fódlan would take many years still. While the lords of the former Alliance had mostly accepted being brought back into Faerghus, many of those from the former Empire resisted still, regardless of Edelgard’s demise, which made them loathe to accept any assistance from Fhirdiad. It was only thanks to their Imperial allies that some of those territories didn’t try to rise up and Dedue is infinitely thankful to Byleth for his persistent recruiting of students from other houses all those years ago.

While the endless stream of work does good to keep him busy, it leaves little time for anything else. Dedue longs for even a single afternoon to waste away in the newly rebuilt greenhouse, for he hasn’t had a chance to visit since the construction was completed several moons ago. Much like the one at Garreg Mach, it is his favorite place in the castle, one of the few places he can go without the still persistent whispers behind his back. They are much fewer than before, thanks in part to Dimitri making sure that every single person that enters the keep knows that he survived the coup only because of Dedue. 

Saving their rightful king is, apparently, the way to win over Faerghan hearts.

But what Dedue misses even more than the feel of soil between his fingers is the person he had grown so used to having at his side while doing it.

Ashe isn’t too far, not like some of their other friends, but the small inn he had opened in the heart of Fhirdiad consumes his days and nights, and his visits to the castle are sparse. After months of constantly being by each other’s sides during the war and its immediate aftermath, it is a difficult emptiness to deal with. Dedue misses him like he is missing a limb, and the five minutes here and there that they get to spend together every few weeks is nowhere near enough to quell that ache.

He gets into a too cold bed at night, long after most of the castle has gone to sleep, and wakes the next morning just as alone. There is no one to hold in his arms throughout the night, no one to share soft and sleepy kisses with as the sun rises. Truthfully it is not something Dedue had ever imagined for himself following the Tragedy. He was dedicated to Dimitri and Dimitri alone, a sure and steadfast vassal.

Ashe had always been an anomaly in his life, but not one that Dedue would ever regret.

This, he is certain, is how their relationship will fade away. That time and distance will eventually take the one thing he holds so close to his heart. It was not unexpected, and he would not blame Ashe for ending it. Ashe deserves so much more, deserves someone who has time for him, who could work at his side at the inn and fall asleep next to him at the end of the day. Dedue cannot be that someone, no matter how he longs to. There is simply far too much for him to do both with and for Dimitri to walk away now.

This, Dedue remembers, is why he had resolved to keep his feelings to himself all of those years ago, and while he doesn’t regret even a single second that he has spent with Ashe he also cannot help but wonder if it might have been easier to never say anything at all. If not for himself then for Ashe, who deserves far more than Dedue could ever give him. 

But in this one thing he will be selfish. When Ashe wishes to leave then Dedue will accept it without question, but until that moment comes he will hoard each and every second that they can have together — even if those seconds are short and sparse.

  
—

  
The days are starting to grow shorter as winter approaches once more, the sun already beginning to set as Dedue traverses the familiar hallways to Dimitri’s private study. They had both been up before dawn, and with dinner time quickly approaching he estimates that their work will continue well past dusk. It is a common routine at this point, and one that likely would not be changing anytime soon.

The guards outside Dimitri’s office merely give him a nod as he enters, and opening the door reveals the king himself to be precisely where Dedue had expected; sitting at his ornately carved desk with a curve to his shoulders as he speaks to the new Duke Fraldarius who stands by his side. Both look up at the sound of the door, and even from a distance Dedue can see a spark in Dimitri’s eye.

“Dedue, perfect timing! You’re dismissed for the day, Ashe is waiting for you in the gardens.”

Dedue frowns. He doesn’t remember making plans to meet Ashe tonight. Was it possible that he had missed a message at some point? The vast number of correspondences he reads on a daily basis do tend to all run together but he has never forgotten any that have arrived from their friends. But as much as he wants to see his lover, there is still so much to do before the day is over and only so many hours to do them, “Apologies, Your Majesty, but we still need to go over all of the treasury accounts before day’s end. We have that meeting with the former Empire lords first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Which I am perfect capable of handling.” Felix interjects with his usual stony stare. Dedue knows better by now than to take the look personally, no matter how rocky their original relationship was. In the end, they both only want the best for Dimitri, regardless of their vastly different ways of showing it.

He also knows better than to argue with him, so with a sigh he nods, “Very well. I will see you both tomorrow then, and please remember to stop for dinner.”

The walk from the royal wing to the gardens is a quiet and familiar one. As he travels the halls Dedue cannot help but wonder if this is it; if his time has finally run out. Is this going to be the night where Ashe smiles at him for the last time before they go their separate ways? He won’t argue if it is. If this is where their paths diverge he will accept it with a smile.

They will always be friends, of course. Dedue cannot see a future in which the ever loyal Ashe would spurn even that, not after all of these years. Still, it is a sour thought. He has never loved anyone the way he loves Ashe, and truthfully he’s not sure if he ever could again.

There is a chill in the air when he steps from the castle to the courtyard, one that will only grow as the slowly departing sun continues its descent beyond the horizon. It is not unusual for Fhirdiad, and Dedue doesn’t particularly mind. While he will miss the warmth that summer brings there are advantages to the colder months as well. The passing of seasons is a steady reminder that they truly won, that it is now their future that they are shaping.

It doesn’t take long for him to find Ashe in the sprawling gardens, back-lit by the setting sun and a sky of pinks and reds. It’s a much grander sight than it had been a year ago, on the night of Dimitri’s coronation. Not only have the rosebushes regained their life, but dozens of other plants and flowers have joined them. Dedue takes a second to admire the view, relishing in the way his heart beats ever so faster just at the sight of Ashe. Ashe, whose face lights up when he finally sees Dedue, and Dedue cannot help his own smile in return.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming.” Dedue offers as a greeting, his eyes trailing from the slight but ever present blush across Ashe’s face to the rich blue of the embroidered coat he wears. It’s not one that Dedue is familiar with, though that isn’t too much of a surprise these days. With how rarely they see each other, and no more need for the sparse possessions of wartime, he probably wouldn’t recognize most of Ashe’s clothes now.

“Well it wouldn’t have been much of a surprise if I had.” Ashe answers, cheeky and bright, and Dedue cannot help himself. He bends down to press a chaste kiss to Ashe’s lips, and while it is short and sweet, when they part the look on Ashe’s face has turned tender and soft, looking up at Dedue as though he had hung the stars in the sky.

“And is there a reason for this surprise?” Dedue asks.

“Yes, I have something to show you.” Ashe laces their fingers together, gently tugging Dedue away from their spot at the rosebushes and towards the greenhouse. Though it had been months since Dedue had last been inside it looks near identical to how it had then, the only telling passage of time being the growing plants themselves. It is a comforting thought, that something in this war-torn world of theirs could remain the same.

Ashe has a clear destination in mind as he guides them through the rows of planter boxes that fill the great space. With their hands joined like this, Dedue cannot help but marvel at how small Ashe is compared to him — though he knows better than to think that size has anything to do with Ashe’s strength. And while it is feeling less and less like this is the end, he has no desire to break their hold.

When they finally come to a stop it’s near the back of the spacious greenhouse. Dedue has only been half paying attention to the plants that they’ve passed, focused far more on the hand in his own and the man walking ahead of him. And while it’s hard to tear his gaze from Ashe, the plants before him take his breath away the second he lays his eyes on them.

They’re the flowers of his homeland, the ones that he has spent his childhood playing amongst, picking for bouquets and braiding into his sister’s hair. There’s chrysanthemums, and peonies, and his mother’s favorite, dahlias, and anything that he might have thought to say is lost as his heart is caught in his throat and tears prick the corners of his eyes. One of Dimitri’s first orders as king was to begin the reconstruction of Duscur, but during their visit the land was still burnt and barren, unfit for any form of life.

Seeing them here, in his new home, in the greenhouse that he had helped to build, is unlike anything Dedue could have imagined. He had clung to the memories of these very flowers so desperately over the past ten years, when those of his family had been too painful to bear. Seeing them again with Ashe by his side is more than he ever could have dreamed of.

His shock must be visible, for Ashe gives his hand a comforting squeeze, “I was going to plant them at the inn, but they would freeze over during the winter and I couldn’t bear to risk the seeds. And this way is better, I think. You can come see them whenever you want.”

If Ashe was planning on saying more he does not get the opportunity, for Dedue immediately pulls him into a tight embrace, long forgotten tears burning in the corners of his eyes. He tucks his head into the crook of Ashe’s neck to hide the shameful things, and his hands tremble where they rest at the small of Ashe’s back. 

Ashe must feel it, however, for he goes stiff and starts to blabber, “Oh Goddess, Dedue, I shouldn’t have- I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you-”

“It is not that at all.” Dedue’s voice is thick with tears, and despite the shame he pulls back so that their eyes can meet, “You have no idea what this means to me. Thank you.”

With a smile, Ashe reaches up to wipe away the tears, his own eyes growing watery as well, “You’ve given me so much over the years, it’s only fair to pay it back. It will take years, of course, assuming you’re willing to have me for that long.”

At that Dedue almost laughs, half choked by his tears, “Me? I was certain you were here tonight to end it, and you’re asking if _I_ am willing?”

“What? Goddess, Dedue, why on earth would you think that?” 

“I cannot give you what you deserve.” Dedue says, raking a gentle hand through Ashe’s hair and relishing in the touch, “Someone to work by your side at the inn, to fall asleep next to you. We have barely seen each other this past year, and I fear that that will not change any time soon. It is why I was originally not going to tell you of my feelings at all, back at the academy. But I cannot regret that I did, for I have never loved anyone as dearly as I love you.”

“You’re an idiot.” Ashe tells him, though any sting that might have been in the words is washed away by the overwhelming fondness of his tone and the tenderness of his hand, cupping Dedue’s face, “I’m well aware our current duties are incompatible, but there is nothing in this world that will take me away from you. Not so long as you’ll have me.”

“I would have you forever.” Dedue murmurs. It’s not something he’s ever said before, not something he’s even allowed himself to think about for more than a fleeting moment. Eleven years he had sworn himself to Dimitri, forgoing any chance of a normal life in favor of dedicating it to his liege and their joint dream. Never had he expected to fall in love, let alone have it be reciprocated. Even now, after nearly two years with Ashe, Dedue had always expected it to end. 

But Ashe had always been one to defy expectations.

**Author's Note:**

> They end up getting married, Dedue takes weekends off from the castle to be at the inn and they live happily ever after because it's what they DESERVE.
> 
> I can't believe this is my second flower-based fic when I actually know nothing about flowers.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are dearly appreciated, and you can fine me over on Twitter [@ren_renners](https://%5Bhttps://twitter.com/ren_renners)


End file.
